


Objects in Motion

by Thistlerose



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Character Study, Collection: Purimgifts Day 3, Gen, POV Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-27 00:06:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6261262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thistlerose/pseuds/Thistlerose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maz Kanata is no Jedi, but she knows the Force.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Objects in Motion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [angel_vixen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel_vixen/gifts).



Maz Kanata is no Jedi, but she knows the Force. She always has, ever since she was a young girl, though the long years of her life have granted her greater insight into the workings of the universe than most of the old Masters ever managed to obtain. Or so she likes to think. And she can think whatever she likes because it's not as if any of _them_ are still around to pop by her castle and contradict her. 

Anyway, despite her lack of training, she's learned a few tricks of her own over the years. For example, she's good at knowing where things _are_ and where they _should be._ When Luke Skywalker lost his lightsaber (and his hand, poor boy) on Cloud City, Maz knew. Not with the clarity of a true Force-vision, but like an itch she couldn't quite reach to scratch. A glint that she could only see out of the corner of her eye and vanished the moment she tried to focus on it. 

_Something_ was out of place. It took her a good long while - _years_ \- to figure out what it was (even Maz has her limits) and still longer to track it down (the Jedi never do anything by halves: when they lose something, it's _lost_ … for a while, at least). She hasn't told anyone how she finally found it, or what she had to do to possess it. She'll tell Luke if he ever comes by. It's his old lightsaber, after all. She'll pour him a free drink too, because if anyone deserves one, it's him. She's also willing to tell Leia because, what the hell, she likes Leia.

 

It's the same with those two wide-eyed children who show up on her doorstep trailing after Han Solo. Maz can tell in one glance that they're lost (so is Han, really, but in a completely different way). They're both children of the Light, she thinks, kept too long in the shadows, denied the love and kindness that should be their birthright.

The heartbreaking thing is, there's not much she can do. Inanimate objects are so much easier to nudge back into place than people, especially young people who think they carry the weight of the world on their shoulders. (And these particular young people are not completely wrong.) 

Take the boy, the ex-stormtrooper, who's calling himself Finn. (It's a funny thing about the name, thinks Maz. He wears it like he wears that leather jacket: with a bit of uncertainty, though it suits him.) The fear in those beautiful dark eyes of his is almost fathomless; it takes Maz's breath away. And yet there's a glimmer of hope that even he isn't aware of. If he could stop for just a moment and catch his breath, he might see it, a glint of something out of the corner of his eye. He still might not believe it, but there's no way he would have made it this far if it didn't exist.

Then there's the girl, the young scavenger from Jakku, who gobbles Maz's food like she hasn't had a good meal in … it twists Maz's gut just thinking about it. Something broke this girl's heart a long time ago, and it's still in pieces. In fact, she's so used to the ache she's almost afraid to be without it. Almost. She longs to trust the boy, to trust Han; Maz can feel the longing, coming off her in waves. One act of love, that's all it will take.

But the boy wants to run; Maz can see it in his eyes. And Han … Han is always running.

 _Children_ , Maz thinks as she watches them. _You can live a thousand years and they still manage to get under your skin._ Out of the corner of her eye she sees Han Solo scratch at his shaggy gray hair, the corner of his mouth twitching like he's wrestling with some emotion. _You don't even have to be a thousand,_ thinks Maz.

 

Really, she should be more jaded after all this time. If she had any sense, she'd have let her heart turn cold centuries ago. It might have been better for business: she could have done something with all those caverns and corridors beneath her castle, instead of using them to hide rebels and refugees. But she knows the Force; she can't think about the galaxy, can't look at any single living thing without knowing, at least on some level, where they belong and how they're connected to everything else. Some might call it a weakness, others a strength. To Maz, it's just a quirk.

Anyway, she chose her side a long damn time ago and it's the Light, no question. You can't achieve that level of awareness and not care. And if you care, you ought to do something. To hell with balance. Sometimes she thinks it's just as well she never trained as a Jedi. They were a pretty stiff bunch more often than not - except for Obi-Wan (but that's a story for another time) and, she supposes, Anakin (and that's one of the reasons they're all in this mess). Detachment, impartiality, they're all well and good, but they're not for Maz.

You can't look at those kids, _really_ look at them, and not care. You can't care, and not want to fight.


End file.
